


The Ravenswood Boys

by sameoldstory



Category: A Voice From Darkness (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Poetry, F/F, M/M, Malcolm is insecure and slightly self destructive, No Smut, This Is Not An AU, and we know nothing about their time at uni so..., anyway here are warnings:, chapter 2 includes fire, compulsion but like not in a noncon way ya know, free real estate, it just tells a story before everything went to shit, look I know Julian is the villain, trust me i know, well now it is kind of an AU because of the update, yes they will be roommates eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sameoldstory/pseuds/sameoldstory
Summary: “Looking for someone to have a will-they-won’t-they kind of homoromantic love/hate relationship with?”Malcolm finds an interesting proposal at university and can't stop himself from falling under its spell.
Relationships: Amelia Ryder/Miranda Holloway, Malcolm Ryder/Julian Holloway





	1. The letter

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: I am very inconsistent. I'll try to never use real cliffhangers between chapters so this will hopefully be a decent read, even in case I accidentally abandon this story. But there's a 50/50 chance that I'll eventually forget about this fic completely. In that case: sorry.  
> Anyway yes this is another Ryder/Holloway story but this time I'm introducing Miranda/Amelia after the first few chapters. Yes this is all an intricate scheme to get you all invested in extremely niche ships.  
> Also...I tend to forget to explain things (or I overexplain them, sorry) but basically the magic system I made for this story is poetry based. There's no canon evidence to prove me wrong, so I can do what I want (edit after the Queen of Cups update: I was a fool. Now there is evidence.)

In between the brightly coloured posters and notices on the board in the university accomodation hallway was a single white paper, seemingly ripped out of a memo pad and handwritten. The writing was crisp black and neat like an old timey letter, not like lost notes from one of the classes. And of course that caught his eye immediately, Malcolm loved discovering things that looked out of place in whatever way. It read:

**“Looking for someone to have a will-they-won’t-they kind of homoromantic love/hate relationship with?”**

Malcolm laughed, intrigued but unsure if it was just a joke or a serious offer. The words made sense on their own but what the position entailed? He didn’t know. Was this a casting call for the role of an enemy or a significant other? Apparently both.

_“Are you, m, a student at Ravenswood, looking for something fun to spice up your university experience? Do you find yourself craving the attention of a special someone, but you are too busy studying the supernatural to actually have a love life? Are you unafraid of intimacy, close companionship and the prospects of having a year long slow burn that might not actually ever be resolved? Write me back ;-)”_

There was no address added to the message, so he shrugged off the excitement he’d felt upon finding this mysterious paper and went about his day. Mostly at least. He’d only just arrived on campus and it wasn’t unreasonable to think that this was some benevolent joke on newbies like him. Or something for a play, maybe? He had seen flyers for the drama club before, though all of them had seemed polished and shiny. Printed on professional paper and decidedly not handmade. But then, who really cared as long as it wasn’t real.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of it being serious. Not in a way that didn’t acknowledge that is was obviously not real… even in his own head he was too self conscious to let himself be wrong about things. (He would get more confident with time, of course. Everyone does. But it would be a few more months until he could walk comfortably in clothes he’d picked out for himself or speak his mind without thinking of possible consequences for his social standing.) But the unlikely chance of it not being a joke wouldn’t leave him for days, always burning in the back of his mind like an itch that hadn’t been scratched.

He distracted himself by unpacking his things. He was lucky to have a rich grandfather, otherwise he’d have had to share a room with another student. Not that he’d have minded if that student was nice. He might have actually enjoyed having a roommate, actually. But it hadn’t really been his decision anyway, so dwelling on it wasn’t all that useful. His grandfather had insisted on paying and had already made the arrangements by the time he’d even handed in his application. And anyway … he’d be able to focus on his studies better without a roommate.

Besides, his neighbours were cool too. He only knew some of their names and faces but they seemed nice enough. Of course they didn’t look very interesting or interested either. More like they expected him to be just like them. Someone they could talk to when they needed to look busy, but also someone they would never have a deeper connection with. No one who would be sad or mad if they didn’t talk to them in a few weeks.Someone they could name-drop one day in case he got famous … or infamous in any way.

All of this definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it wasn’t their fault he’d hoped for a deep friendship and excitement like in the stories. (Of course he still had Amelia and she didn’t live far away. Just a few streets down actually, so he’d never be alone. But that wasn’t what he was yearning for, not at all.) In fact, he didn’t blame them for being a bit cold. But deep in his soul he kept hoping for a love so beautiful and terrible it would make him shake, would make him weak in the knees. He hoped for goosebumps and fireworks, not quite a fairy tale but close enough. What kind of love that might be was not actually something he really thought about, he valued all kinds equally.

\---

A few days later, the paper was still there. It was now partially covered by a new, colourful poster, advertising a party of some kind. But so far, no one had really shown interest in the handmade offer and there hadn’t been any jokes about it so it couldn’t really be a prank, could it? Maybe it was a supernatural paper that showed his deepest wishes and desires? But then, he’d have heard about that at orientation. And all they’d talked about were the library and the tower and some famous monsters. No mysterious letters in the hallways. Besides, it would definitely show other things in that case.

It wasn’t a real decision to rip the paper from the board and take it to his room. It all happened rather instinctively as if he’d been meant to do it. But as soon as he held it in his hand, the slightly wrinkled paper cool in his open palms it just felt right. More than right actually, it felt as if his soul called to the paper. He’d expected to find an address or a number of a sort somewhere on the paper but there was only a coded message on the back. He was not good with that sort of stuff but it was just a shifted code as far as he could tell, nothing too complicated. It still took him at least one hour to decipher it all.

The secret message read:

_It’s a curious kind of love that loves from afar_

_unbeknownst by those who love and are loved_

_unseen looking for that which cannot be found_

_unheard by touch, unsmelled by taste_

_Unknowing nothing and no-one, nowhere, never_

_ever unheard, unplaced but never not loved_

He didn’t know what to do with that. He’d expected a lot but definitely not poetry … and confronted with it he realized he’d forgotten most, if not all they’d learned about poems in school.

Of course he could have gone to the library to find books on poetry, how to read and interpret it correctly but somehow the word “poem” still felt… hollow to him, like it was not the right word to describe what sat before him. It felt like describing a snake as a “big worm”. The form fit but the feeling was different. And so he found himself wanting to read the thing out loud instead of analyzing it. Actually, he found himself starting to read it out loud, not quite forced to do it ...but there was definitely a kind of compulsion in the way the words twisted inside his chest.

 _Oh so it is a spell after all,_ he thought and went along with it. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. And magic didn’t automatically mean that he’d come to harm. But even if he did, it had the possibility of being fun anyway.

Now you might come to the conclusion that Malcolm was self destructive in his uni years, dear reader... and maybe he was and you’d be right. Just a little bit at least. But mostly he was just an impulsive boy who had been mostly protected in his childhood and who still had to learn that some actions had really bad consequences. And of course he’d learn that with time. But for now he was taken by the new feeling of magic that filled him completely, head to toe, tingling in his stomach and pulling him in the direction of his desk.

It wasn’t a lot of magic, just the tiniest spell trying to get him to write back to the sender of the letter. Luckily for the sender, he’d intended to do that anyway, so the spells hold on him was complete.

_Dear friend,_

_I am writing you to apply for the advertised position. I have never been in a love/hate relationship before but it sounds fun and I’d love to meet you to discuss it further._

_I’m sorry if this is too official sounding, I have also never applied for any position under the compulsion of a spell. But it definitely tingles a lot._

_Thank you for that, it is an interesting experience._

He did not sign his name, but he was pretty sure they would find him and it filled him with wild excitement.


	2. Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia and Miranda visit the Ghost Library together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't like the story of the Ghost Library you won't be a fan of this chapter. There's some fire 🔥

The first time Amelia Ryder met Miranda Holloway was at orientation during the first week of uni. It was a beautiful morning and the warm autumn sun made the campus seem like something taken straight from a fairy tale. The leaves on the trees were golden and red and not quite ready to drop. The birds were singing and the first tourists were taking pictures of the clock tower and the beautiful door to the main building. Things were good, for lack of a better word.

In a way, she felt like she was living in the epilogue of a story that focused on her childhood. Somehow, being at uni made her feel like all the hardships of life were overcome. From now on she could just be herself. Of course she’d eventually figure out that there was more hardship to life than being an older sister or having parents who didn’t fully understand their children.

She had always known she’d love university. Of course she’d spent lots of time on campus, even in her childhood. Her grandpa was a professor after all. THE professor Ryder. When she’d been younger, her parents and grandpa had still been friendly. So she’d come to see him every other week. Him and the library. In hindsight, she couldn’t tell if she’d spent more time with him or with the books.

So of course she wasn’t too surprised to hear about the Ghost Library at orientation. Sure, she loved the story… but it really didn’t make her feel as creeped out anymore. Instead of listening, she watched the other new students. She knew some of them. Not by name but they would smile at her as she memorised their faces, they knew they’d seen her before.

There was one girl who looked completely out of place. Her face seemed familiar but absent and her eyes were searching the Library as if she was waiting for someone to appear next to her. So … Amelia did.

She hadn’t planned on making friends. She had her family and a couple of friends from school who had promised to write every week… and she wasn’t exactly a social person. People thought that she was too hard working to have many friends or go to parties, but in reality she just didn’t like speaking up or talking to strangers. Still, this seemed like the appropriate time to do just that.

“Are you admiring the architecture? Libraries are some of the most interesting buildings in my opinion. The way they can hold so many books and people at the same time and still make you feel like you’re all alone is… marvelous. Besides, the promise of finding the Haunted Library makes it all feel like an adventure. It’s kind of amazing how many haunted buildings we have on campus.”

She cut herself off after that, aware that she was talking too much for an introduction. “Anyway I’m Amelia Ryder”, she finished with a sheepish smile. Other people would probably have been bored or confused, but the other girl seemed really happy to have someone to talk to. There was a strange intensity in her eyes, that made Amelias heart skip a beat.

“Miranda Holloway. It’s really nice to meet you, Amelia.”

Amelia smiled back, happy to have made a friend so quickly (this had never happened before, she’d always had to fight for friendships).

“It’s really nice to meet you too.”

She didn’t listen to anything their guide said after that. It was surprisingly easy to talk to Miranda. When Miranda talked, the world seemed to stop in its tracks. And when she listened, she did it so intently... it made Amelia feel like the only person in the world.

She knew most people studied the paranormal because they liked it, instead of for the money. But Miranda seemed to burn with how intensely she loved everything supernatural.

At the end of orientation, Miranda asked Amelia to come to the Ghost Library with her.

“I haven’t seen it yet, but I can’t wait to. I need to know how long a person can actually stay there. And is it possible to avoid the Librarian? Are the books there actually readable and can they travel from the Ghost Library to the real library? Do people who leave the Ghost Library reappear in the spot where they were standing in the real library? Can the Ghost Library be mapped or does it change between visits? I have so many questions and no one will answer them. Will you come with me to find answers?”

Amelia couldn’t stop thinking about how the warmth of Mirandas hand was slowly seeping through the fabric of her shirt. She couldn’t remember how long it’d been on her arm but there it was and it made her feel … very fuzzy and interesting.

Miranda was arguably the prettiest girl she’d ever seen and it made her want to say yes without thinking about the consequences. And so, for the second time that day she just went with her gut and did it.

They agreed to meet in front of the Library just after it closed in the evening. In the meantime, Amelia went to see her Grandpa. Her parents didn’t exactly talk to him anymore. Not since he’d traumatised Malcolm and they’d had a huge fight about it. But Amelia still enjoyed his company.

Of course she loved her little brother and she wasn’t happy about the fact that he would still flinch at shadows, sometimes. But in order to know about the paranormal, one had to encounter it. And besides, her grandpa felt quite bad about the whole thing. And even Malcolm still came to see their grandpa. Their parents were just a bit narrow minded, sometimes.

Grandpa Ryder wasn’t really the type for hugs or being called grandpa. But he accepted that sort of thing from her. She wasn’t his favourite grandchild, but she was the one who was most like him and she knew that meant a lot to him.

“Grandpa, I met someone.”

Normally she’d tell him about new books or spells she’d learned about. But not this time. She needed to tell someone about Miranda or she’d… explode. He looked at her the same way he always did, with a mix of curiosity, amusement and love. So she told him everything, of course. He was always willing to listen and she never felt judged with him.

“Make sure you take a jacket to your date. It’s very hot in the Ghost Library, so you’ll feel cold once you come back to the real world.”

Amelia felt her face flush. I wasn’t a date, was it? She hadn’t been on many dates in her life … and she’d never dated a woman. Still. The thought of holding Mirandas hand was surprisingly desirable to her. And when she closed her eyes, she could see herself leaning into Miranda, holding her… The thoughts made her chest feel warm and tingly.

“I will. And I’ll tell you if we find something interesting, there.”

He’d love to hear about the librarian. His own mother had known him, before the fire. And the story about the Ghost Library had always been her grandpa's favourite.

“I can’t wait.” to anyone who knew him less, this would have sounded insincere. But she knew he was serious.

The current librarian let them sneak in, even though the place was closed for business. Amelia had basically grown up in this library. So the employees trusted her, even when she told them she’d try to find the Ghost Library. Jane hadn’t even seemed too surprised. In a way it made sense, people had probably been placing bets on when she’d go there. Truth be told, she liked the theory of haunted places better than seeing them herself. But here she was. And here was Miranda, standing so close to her…

It didn’t actually take that long to find the book. Which was surprising, considering that she hadn’t found it in the past fifteen years since her grandpa had introduced her to the Ravenswood Library. Maybe the book only came to those who were open to finding it? She’d experiment to find the answer to that question for many years.

Miranda had brought a camera and took pictures of the book, first in the shelf and then on one of the tables. The book looked old and dusty and it was bound in reddish brown leather. On its spine were golden Latin words that had likely once been quite impressive. Now, the cover was worn and used from generations of students who used the book each semester, either on accident or as a dare. Or to get information. Amelia wasn’t quite sure what the text said, she was okay at Latin but the text was too faded but she thought one of the words was “incaendium”. To her knowledge, that words translated to “fire”… which made sense in a way.

They opened the book to a random page and Miranda took a picture of it, before the book turned to ash once again. The flash of the camera illuminated the transformed library in a bluish light. There hadn’t been a sound or a shift in the atmosphere, but now that Amelia looked around, the heat of the place seemed to press in on her. It was a crackling, dry heat that smelled of fire and faintly of burning hair and it activated her fight or flight instincts in a very uncomfortable way.

Miranda seemed completely in her element. The flickering, orange light caught in her dark eyes and hair and she was smiling like a forest fire. It made her look like the spirit of a witch from hundreds of years ago. Amelia couldn’t stop looking at her in awe.

“So, let’s find out how long we can stay clear of the Librarian.”

Amelia grabbed one of the books from the shelf in front of them. She couldn’t quite read the title because there was smoke everywhere and it made her eyes water. But the title wasn’t really that important for answering the question whether they could take the books home or not. She didn’t think it would be possible, but it was impossible to be sure.

“We should have brought gloves. Be prepared to drop the book in case it catches on fire.”

She nodded and they started to walk down one of the corridors that didn’t seem to be a dead end.

“How far up do you think they reach? The shelves?”

The black wood reached so high up it was impossible to tell. It made her feel very small and insignificant. And it made her wish the normal library could hold this many books.

“Forever… do you think climbing up there would work? And would the librarian still climb after me if I tried?”

Mirandas smile was playful, but the question was clearly genuine.

“I don’t think you’d get very far. It’s better not to get too high up during a fire. You’d probably get too much smoke into your lungs and die. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’d burn yourself. The books are quite warm already but the shelves… do you see the air next to them? I wouldn’t touch them…”

Miranda shrugged as if to say “buzzkill”. But then she put her hand in Amelias and her brain short circuited. Mirandas hand was cold and soft, a welcome contrast to the temperature in the library and Amelia found herself unable to think of anything but their interlaced fingers.

Until the librarian appeared, that was. He looked terrible. Big parts of him were engulfed in flames, and the rest was hard to make out through the smoke. But his face was… his eyes stared at them unblinking. She didn’t know how she knew he was angry at them but he definitely was. Even Miranda seemed shaken at the sight of him and as far as she could tell, it took a lot to shock her.

“Come on, let’s go. We can always come back.” Amelia pleaded. For a moment she thought Miranda would disagree, but then she nodded.

“Let’s come back soon. With gloves and a stopwatch.”

They screamed and Milner expelled them from the Ghost library. Amelia didn’t know if she’d ever been so relieved in her life, but Miranda looked ready to go back.

The book had survived, but it was impossible to read. Every page was blackened, not even the cover was intact.

“Well it was worth a shot.” Miranda shrugged again. They weren’t in fact in the same location they’d started from which was cool.

“I guess we will have to map out the Ghost Library to see if we can use this sort of transportation somehow…” Amelia didn’t really know if she wanted to go back. But now that the fear she’d felt went away, the prospects of another adventure weren’t quite as bad anymore. In the cool darkness of the night, she couldn’t quite tell if Miranda was actually smiling, but she liked to think she did.

They were still holding hands and she was too nervous to even move a finger. She didn’t want to give Miranda a reason to pull away.

“Do you think there are more places like this on campus? I don’t mean the ones we know about already. But maybe there are some we don’t know about. I want to explore them all.”

One of the streetlights caught Mirandas face like the flash of a camera and there was something entirely inhuman in that face. Something hungry. Had Amelia not been so attracted to her, she’d probably been almost afraid. But the way it was, she only noticed the way Miranda shivered in the cool breeze, not the hunger in the girls eyes.

“I’m not sure if I am quite as adventurous as you. But if you want, I’ll come with you every now and then. And… I have a jacket if you want. You seem cold…”

This time she could see Mirandas smile.


	3. With love, J.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of scenes and letters that lead up to Julian and Malcolms meeting.

_Dearest Malcolm,_

_I am glad to have you as my friend/enemy/potential love interest. I can’t wait to bother you in person. But alas, that has to wait a bit until the letters lose their charm. Until then, please accept this pressed flower as a sign of my affection._

_Yours,_  
_J._

Their letters continued. Sometimes there’d be several a day and at some point they started to have a hiding spot for them: There was a hollow stone near the Ravenswood campus that was just perfect for hiding letters and small items. Malcolm would often sit near it in hopes of catching his penpal in the act of delivering one of the letters, torn between the hope to see him and the need to keep his identity a mystery.

There was a charm in the unknown and in being able to write while not having to deal with the consequences of his words. In letters he could be more confident and playful than in real life. In letters he could tell stories and secrets without looking J in the eye. And he could joke around. One of the things he liked to do was to try and guess Js real name. He’d start each letter with a new name… just to find out that he was not in fact talking to a Jim, James, Jarry or Justin.

_Jaxton,_

_I don’t know what I’ll do once I find out your real name. When I lay awake thinking about you and who you could be (instead of studying or sleeping at a reasonable time, mind you. What have I become? You’ve made me into a new man.) I think I will say your name a thousand times each day. I think I’ll write your name in every margin of every book and text, like a schoolgirl. I’ll scream it to the stars at night and sing it to the birds. I’ll hold it close and feed it like a fire and it still won’t ever turn to ash on my lips._  
_Is it not strange that I focus so much on a name, a descriptor for you and less on your face and the person you are on the inside?_

_It’s because I feel like I know you already. All but your name. What you look like or how you sound is not important to me (though I’d love to see and hear you)._  
_What is important to me is a name to tell to others._  
_“Mum, Dad, Amelia, I’ve made a friend. His name is ???” I can basically hear myself saying it. But like in a dream, the scene cuts off before I can hear myself say your name._

_Anyway I can’t say I didn’t like Juan… but judging from your last letter I can add that one to the list of names that aren’t yours. The game continues._

_I hope you have a good day. The weather is so nice still and I can’t stop imagining us lying in the grass together. Talking instead of writing. Holding your hand instead of writing about it. Coming out to this rock every day keeps me moving, though. So writing does have its good sides._

_Yours,_  
_Malcolm_

_My Malcolm,_

_I hope you won’t be disappointed once you find out? Sometimes the chase and asking the questions is all the fun and getting the answers is just boring. As long as you promise not to be, I’ll answer your questions truthfully however._

_It’s not Jaxton either. I did know a Jaxton, once in high school. He had long hair and could grow a beard which was very impressive to me back then. Apparently he’s a clerk in a music shop nearby. Maybe he could help you on your quest? I remember him to be quite sweet as well. So who knows? Maybe you’d be friends?_

_My day is going better than I thought it would. Not only did I get 4 letters from you today (that must be a personal record! Have we ever written that much before?) but my sibling also seems to have a bit of a crush on someone. It is a lot of fun, trying to get them to tell me who it is. How is your sister, by the way? She could be in my siblings classes…_

_I hope your day is going well, too. I get what you mean. Sometimes I’ll read what you’ve written and my hand will look for yours next to mine instinctively. It’s getting hard to stay apart. We should probably meet in person before the summer is gone completely. But writing you has not lost its magic quite yet. And it is fun, seeing you come up with new names for me every day. If I could, I’d keep them all and wrap myself up in them._

_With love,_  
_J._

Malcolm was not stupid of course. Over the first few weeks of uni he had made friends in his obsessive search for his J.

“Turns out it’s easy to make friends if you ask people for their name and what they like to do in their free time”, he’d told Miranda one day. And it was true. While his motives were to find one person he still liked making friends more than he thought he would.

And in making friends he had noticed someone who was new to Ravenswood as well and fit all the criteria of his search. He had a sister at Ravenswood, he was somewhat of a loner, talented at spells and his name started with a J.

He didn’t know how he’d react if his penpal was not Julian Holloway. Maybe he’d be relieved, maybe he’d be disappointed… truth be told he was a bit intimidated by Julian. He was handsome, though it was hard to pinpoint exactly what about him it was that made people gravitate towards him. Malcolm suspected that his face would have been less handsome on any other person, though thinking that made him feel shallow. Still, he suspected that it was the way Julian carried himself and the way he spoke that made people look at him and think “he’s handsome”.

Malcolm had been reading J’s letters in Julian's voice and imagined himself holding his hand.

Maybe that was why he was so scared to call J Julian, even though it wasn’t an uncommon name. It would either end their game or he’d have two developing crushes on a person whose name started with J. Or J’s name was Julian, too, but he was a different Julian… his thoughts trailed off.

Maybe they both needed more time. Or maybe he should rip the bandaid off.  
But it wasn’t him who took the initiative in the end.  
A few days later he found a new spell in their hollow stone.

_My dearest Malcolm,_

_We’re caught in a web of inbetweens_  
_True gray in a sea of black and white_  
_Who could you become? who have you been?_  
_There’s no one true answer. No way is right._  
_And so I think-_  
_We’re circling each other_  
_Two fish in a pond we spiral above and around_  
_Below and beyond, next to and still apart._  
_I don’t see you through the waves and_  
_We’re two hands almost touching_  
_The space between you and me_  
_maybe unbridgeable._  
_Maybe it’s already closing, already bridged._  
_I don’t want to be alone anymore._  
_Come see me_  
_See me._

_J._

There was something in the air that day. It wasn’t quite sparks or electricity the way you’d expect but there was a certain kind of tension. Malcolm felt it in his bones, though he couldn’t quite name the feeling until he found the letter in the stone.

“Come see me” echoed in his head. Three words he’d almost given up on hearing- or reading. He didn’t know how it worked, but his feet knew exactly where he had to go.He could probably have resisted, it wasn’t as if his penpal/friend/enemy had strung him up with invisible threads and made him his puppet. No, he just felt where he had to go like the tug he had felt when he had read his very first letter.

The young man in the room turned around dramatically and smiled with a level of warmth that made Malcolms knees feel weak.The first real though he had after that was: Julian Holloway is my J. There was triumph and excitement in the answer to his questions.

“Malcolm! I’ve been expecting you.”

No doubt he had staged all of this, especially the dramatic reveal that made him look like a supervillain from a Bond film. Laughter bubbled in Malcolms chest but he held it back. His face probably still showed his amusement but there was nothing wrong with that.

“Have you now.”  
He’d never heard his own voice sound so soft, so fond. And he’d never felt this warm before. Everything was new … but not in a bad way

Julian just smiled again “What can I say I’m a man of many talents. And while I can’t see the future... knowing you and trying to predict where you’d go has become one of those talents lately” he paused, but then he added: “Also … thinking about you, if that’s a talent and not just in my nature.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I just finished the book "This is how you lose the time war" and letters are gay culture now. Anyway I can't wait to write my girls again in the next chapter (probably... I don't really know what I'm doing).


End file.
